


Vision

by scribblemoose



Series: Merlin Missing Scenes Fics [9]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-08
Updated: 2010-09-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 15:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3901222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemoose/pseuds/scribblemoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana dreams of a sword.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vision

**Author's Note:**

> with thanks to Kis for the beta

In her dream Morgana relaxed a little, and watched. Merlin wrapped the sword lovingly in cloth, like a gift, and lay it down.  
  
 _For Arthur._  
  
Morgana smiled, her heart aching a little for Merlin, for the love that couldn't be between the boy and his Prince, because Arthur would never-  
  
Everything went dark. Blank-dark, nothing-dark, flat-dark.  
  
And then there was a storm.  
  
Morgana blinked through the rain, squinted at sheet-lightning so bright it left stars in front of her eyes. There was mud and noise, the clang of weapons on armour, the screaming of dying men.  
  
The rain and mist cleared just enough that she could make out three figures in front of her. Her cloak billowed and slapped at her legs and her face as she stood and stared.  
  
Arthur. Older, but just as strong, armour smeared with blood and dirt. Merlin, a little behind him, to his right, hand outstretched, fingers splayed in a gesture that was at once familiar and completely alien.  
  
And in front of them both, smiling, the druid boy. A man, now, with flowing hair, battle-dressed, but still the same smile, the same piercing blue eyes.  
  
Morgana reached out to him, wanting only to protect, to love. But before she could reach him, Arthur moved. Quick as lightning, roaring "Mordred!" with feral menace, sword outstretched, _the_ sword, _that_ sword, and while Merlin looked on and laughed, Arthur ran the boy through.  
  
Mordred clutched at the sword in his chest, gurgling blood and wrath; his eyes flashed feeble gold; he toppled and died at Morgana's feet.  
  
*  
  
Morgana woke screaming, clutching at her throat, painfully short of breath. She forced herself to stare at the remains of the fire, long-since dead, recognised embers and ash and blackened wood; the grate; the fireplace, cold Camelot stone. She gasped air into her lungs in cramped stutters, gulping, trying to force the death and dirt and blood from her mind.  
  
It couldn't be true. It couldn't happen. Arthur was going to die tomorrow; how could he kill the druid boy years from now?  
  
Arthur was going to die tomorrow.  
  
Morgana burst into tears: huge wracking sobs, wet cheeks as she clawed the soft fibres of the rug beneath her. She could breathe now, gulping big mouthfuls of air down until she choked. Finally she forced herself calm, bone-weary, curled in a ball by the cold fire on the cold floor. She longed for Gwen's patience and comfort, but she'd sent her home long since.  
  
It was cold, and dark, but she dared not long for morning.  
  
 _fin_


End file.
